


Get Whelmed

by lexosaurus



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-29 02:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12620652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexosaurus/pseuds/lexosaurus
Summary: Robin centered oneshots. Mostly Dick and Wally friendship. Latest: As Dick gained fluency in English, Bruce expected him to get better at social events too. So what was holding him back?





	1. Asexual

 

**Characters: Wally, Dick (aged up a little)**

**Pairings: Implied Wally/Arty**

**Summary: Wally and Dick are having bro time when Wally starts wondering: if Dick doesn't like girls, who does he like?**

* * *

 

Red eyebrows scrunched with his tongue poking out of his pale lips, Wally pressed the keys to his video game controlled. His fingers flew, hardly touching one key before they moved onto the next. The miniature joystick swirled around, correlating with the perspective movements on the large flatscreen in front of him. Instinctively, his arms tugged the controller from side to side as if it would make the joystick movements more effective. His heart pounded and sweat trickled off his brow. He grit his teeth. He was just...so...close...to...

"Damnit, Dick!" Wally all but threw his controller at the shorter tan male beside him.

Dick Grayson, son of  _the_ Bruce Wayne, cackled beside him. "Not my fault you suck at video games," he defended, his big blue eyes bright against his toothy smile.

Wally shook his head. "I will never understand how you can be good at a game you literally never play."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Batman reflexes."

Wally smirked and placed his controller on the ground. "Can't argue with that logic."

"Whatever makes you sleep at night," Dick rolled his eyes and mimicked Wally in placing his controller on the ground. He flopped down onto the bed they were sitting on and stared up at the ceiling. The pair was hanging out at Bruce's mansion, as they often did on the weekend. It was an easy run for Wally - mostly highways - and Dick had the newest and best technology. One of the perks of being the ward of a billionaire, and neither teen was complaining about it too. For Dick, it meant he could completely be himself without a mask. He didn't have to hold back at all or double and triple check everything he said before he spoke it like he had to at the cave. One little slip up was all it would take for Dick and Bruce's identities to be revealed. So while the duo had a fair amount of bro time at the Cave with the rest of their team, they also made sure to have enough bro time at the Wayne Manor too.

Wally's eyes glazed over the flashing "Game Over" sign on the screen. Lately he had been spending more time with Artemis, which meant he was spending less time with Dick. Not that their Wayne Manor time was decreasing, but their Cave bro time was becoming less and less. Luckily, Dick hadn't seemed to mind. Wally still made a conscious effort to pay attention to his right hand man, so Dick didn't feel there was anything to complain about. Besides, he could always hack the Pentagon if he was bored.

Even so, Wally couldn't help but feel a little guilty. He cared a lot about Dick - more than he'd ever show. All he wanted was for his little brother to be happy too. But Dick had never shown even a modicum of interest in any of the females on the team. Even though Wally knew who Dick was outside the mask, Dick hardly ever talked about his school life unless it came to how much ass he was kicking in Calculus. Wally knew Dick couldn't help it, he was private by nature, but it would still be nice to gauge where he was at socially. Even if it was just a little bit.

"Hey," Wally said, ending the peaceful silence that had surfaced on the duo.

Dick glanced up at Wally, his head resting peacefully on his hands which were serving as makeshift pillows on top of his fluffy bed. "What's up?"

"What do you think of me and Artemis?" Wally asked. A slight red tint blossomed under his freckled cheeks.

Dick shrugged. "You  _know_ I don't care, right? Like seriously. She's chill and I think she's good for you. You can go after her. It's 100% whelming for me either way."

Wally scuffled his feet. "Yeah, I know. I just feel bad. I don't want you to feel like I'm replacing you or anything."

"Kid Mouth, you could never replace me," Dick gave him a cheesy grin. "I'm not disposable. I'm posable. Too posable for you to leave."

Wally playfully smacked his friend. "Dude, I'm already getting too many new vocab words in school to memorize. Don't add onto the pile, nerd."

Dick rolled his eyes again and responded with a, "Geek."

They quieted down again. Wally frowned at his knees. He knew he was about to broach into uncomfortable territory, but they were fifteen and seventeen now. Sure, Dick was young, but he was still old enough for crushes and dating to be part of his norm. Yet, Wally had never heard the slightest hint of any of that. Wally needed to know, but he just wasn't sure how to go about it. If he approached it from the wrong way, Dick would go into his default Robin-mode and completely shut down. There were a lot of things Dick was good at, but expressing deep emotions were not one of them. Wally, thankfully, had years of practice in this. Unfortunately, that didn't mean anything as the process of getting Dick to open up was still just as painfully slow each time.

"Just spit it out, Wall-man." Dick stared up at Wally's tight face. "I know you have something to say. I'm a detective."

Wally internally groaned. "I hate when you do that."

Dick snickered.

Wally sighed. "You know you're my best bud, right?"

"Yeah, duh," Dick gave him such an incredulous look it was as if his head were about to pop off. "Obviously."

Wally looked at him uncertainly, "So you know, by default, you can tell me anything, right?"

Dick rolled his eyes for the third time now. "Honestly I don't see where this is headed."

Wally paused, not quite sure how to go at it. Should he be direct? That might scare Dick off. Make him shut down before even giving Wally a chance. Should he be subtle? Maybe Dick would accidentally respond with his own subtleness that Wally could pick up on. Or maybe Dick would pretend to not notice Wally's snide-hints and shut down that way. It seemed like a lose-lose no matter which way Wally looked at it. Maybe he could text him later? People always have an easier time opening up if it's not face-to-face.

"While we're young, Wally?" Dick prodded more.

Wally snapped out of his stupor and said before Dick could finish his sentence, "Do you have a crush on anyone?"

Dick blinked. "What?"

Wally shifted uncomfortably. "You know...a girl. Do you like any girls at your school?"

Dick frowned at the ceiling. "I...don't...I..."

Wally didn't say anything. He just watched Dick's internal battle spread across his face. Conflicting emotions danced in his eyes. Wally could almost hear Dick screaming in panic on the inside. Should he be truthful? Should he lie? Should he even respond?

Eventually Dick decided on, "I mean, I guess I've just been too busy to think of girls. Like between my schoolwork and Young Justice it just makes me not notice girls as much."

Wally decided this answer pretty much confirmed his previous theory: Dick wasn't interested in girls. So why was he hiding this from Wally? Didn't Dick know he wouldn't care at all if he was gay? Wally racked his brain trying to find a single moment he said anything that could be interpreted even a little bit as homophobic, but drew a blank. So why wouldn't Dick open up about it? Wasn't Wally his best friend?

"So..." Wally started, deciding to throw any previous thoughts of holding back out of the window. "So you don't like girls."

Dick glanced up at Wally with a face of annoyance. "Again, I don't see where this is going. You're wasting your time."

Even though Dick was bad at verbally expressing his emotions, he was a bit of an open book when it came to his face. Emotions like frustration and anger often showed through in his eyes, no matter how well he tried to mask it. Wally, of course, knew this better than anyone.

"Come on, man, we're best friends. You can tell me if you're gay."

Dick choked. "W-what?"

"Seriously, I really won't care."

Dick, wide eyed, stared unblinking at the red-head. "Gay?"

"I mean, I know I'm just about the straightest person you've ever met, but like honestly it means nothing. If you're gay that's totally cool with me."

"You..." Dick searched for the right words, "I...gay?"

"And like Bruce is super progressive and Alfie's such a softie so I'm sure they'd both accept you no problemo."

Dick sat up suddenly. "Wait. Sorry, Wally, you think I'm gay?"

Wally scrunched his eyebrows. "Well, yeah. You don't like girls, right? So you're gay."

There was a slight pause as Dick took in the turn of events. Then, without warning, Dick bursted into laughter. All Wally could do was stare at his friend with bewilderment as he watched Dick clutch his sides and break down into the largest fit of laughter Wally's seen him go into since Connor accidentally flipped to a TV show right when a sex-scene started. Tears ran down Dick's face as he doubled over, trying to catch his breath, only to break down once again when Wally tried to interject with a, "You done?"

A few minutes later, Dick's laughter subsided due to his lungs burning for air. After choking for the last time, Dick coughed and said, "Sorry! So sorry. I just-I mean, I  _never-_ like how did you get that...that perspective of me?"

Wally could feel the annoyance starting to tickle the base of his neck. What he thought was going to be a deep bro-talk between the two was turning into, for lack of a better word, a shitshow. This was not even close to how he thought the conversation would go.

"Seriously? Do you like girls or not?"

Dick stuttered, "I..I mean..."

Wally huffed. "It's a simple question, bro."

Dick calmed down, his face like stone. "No. I don't."

"So you're gay!"

"I'm not!"

Wally's hand slapped his forehead. "Dude, it's not that difficult. If you like chicks you're straight, and if you like dicks you're gay. You don't like chicks, so therefore you play for the other team. You have to be gay."

Dick laid back down on the bed, sighing in defeat. "It's not that simple."

Wally shifted so he could face his friend. "How? How is it not? You godda like  _somebody._  You can either like one, the other, or both. You don't like girls so you therefore like guys."

"But I don't!" Dick snapped.

Now it was Wally's turn to stutter. "W-what?"

Dick gnawed at his bottom lip. "Think about it! Have you ever seen me staring at another guy? Have you ever seen me give a guy  _that_ look? Have you ever heard me talk about another guy like that? Have you ever actually gotten any sort of hint from me that I even like dudes?"

Wally frowned, racking his head for any of those clues. If he was honest with himself, his basis of that conclusion was entirely off of Dick's avoidance in talking about girls. But other than that, Dick hadn't shown any signs that he was into guys. So maybe...maybe he wasn't.

Wally immediately brushed that thought off. It couldn't be possible.

"Well how do you know? It's not like you've ever tried going after a guy anyways."

Dick rolled his eyes again. "That's got to be just about the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say, Kid Mouth. By that logic you could be pan because you've never tried dating a boy or a trans person or a non-binary per-"

"Okay, okay! I get it." Wally growled.

Dick smirked. "So...does that mean you get where I'm at now?"

Wally shook his head. "No. I mean, you can't just not  _like_ anyone! Everyone has to like someone!"

Dick shrugged. "I guess I just don't. I mean, like, I don't really get your world, Wally. No offense. I just don't understand it all. How do you enjoy kissing Artemis and holding her hand and touching her and stuff? It's weird."

Wally was shocked, "Dude! How could you not be into that? It's the best thing ever! It means you get someone who's yours and you guys do things that normal friends don't do. Plus, she's hot."

Dick sat up again and shook his head. "See, I just don't get any of that stuff. With anyone, girls or guys. All that sounds super boring and like I'd really rather do my calculus homework than be a part of...whatever that is."

Wally laughed. "Dude, you're such a nerd. Who would choose math over girls?"

The obsidian-haired boy grinned, "I guess I would."

"Whatever." Now it was Wally's turn to roll his eyes.

They fell silent again as both members process what just occurred. Wally had never heard of anyone not liking someone else, but he also knew Dick was his best bro and best bros don't lie to each other. They tell each other the truth no matter what. Even if it means Wally has to force Dick not to dance around the issue or remind Dick he doesn't need to shut down for him, they always come through in the end. But this? This was a new playing field for Wally. And it was in a language he didn't understand. Growing up, Wally was constantly pining after nearly every cute girl he saw. He couldn't find a moment where he didn't have  _at least_ two crushes. He couldn't imagine a world where he didn't want or need to crush on anyone. But apparently, this was Dick's world.

It was a world Wally truly wanted to understand, but he couldn't wrap his head around it. Even so, he was going to be there for Dick. He would pretend he understood, even if he didn't, just like how Dick had pretended to understand all of Wally's love conquests all these years. It's what best friends do.

Accepting the situation, Wally finally spoke. "So...what's the word?"

"Huh?" Judging by Dick's reaction, Wally had likely pulled him out of his own musings. Though, Wally would never brag about catching Robin off-guard. At least not today.

"You know, your name for it! Everyone's got one."

"Oh, yeah that." Dick looked down, his face tinging read. "Asexual. That's what it's called."

Wally thought about it for a second. "Huh. It fits."

"Yeah?" Dick looked hopefully up at the older male.

"Yeah, totally. Hey, does that mean you photosynthesize?"

Dick playfully punched his friend and snickered with a, "Fuck you."

With the room lighthearted once again, Wally jumped up and turned to face the younger boy. "Does that mean you guys have chloroplasts? Can I get some of your cells under a microscope?"

Dick stood up also and started walking away. "You're so immature!"

Wally followed him into the hallway. "No, I'm serious, man! I really wanna see those chloroplasts do their thing! Do you have cell walls too? Hey, more importantly, did Alfie make his cookies? I'm starving. Even if they're not done yet do you think he'd let me eat the cookie dough? I mean, I'm okay with getting a little bit of Salmonella in my diet. I don't mind. Those cookies are to die for! Hey, speaking of food..."


	2. Accent

**Characters: Dick, Artemis, Wally**

**Pairings: None**

**Summary: English wasn't Dick's first language, and Wally and Artemis seem to notice this.**

* * *

The first time Wally figured out that Dick had an accent was...well...the first time he met the little bird. Wally had recently joined the Flash's side as Kid Flash and was over in Gotham for the night with the Dynamic Duo. Apparently Batman and Flash had decided that it might be a good idea for the two young heroes to socialize with each other. Well, looking back at it, Wally figured it was more likely that the Flash had pestered Batman for several weeks about their sidekicks meeting each other until Batman, to get the speedster to stop talking, eventually caved. But, whatever really.  _T_ _omayto tomahto._

At that point Dick had only been Robin for about a year, and he'd been under Bruce's care for slightly longer. He was hardly a fluent English speaker and his accent was incredibly thick. Wally remembers asking Robin where he was from, only for the bird to respond with, "Batman says if I tell you it could compromise my identity!"

He didn't bring the topic up until a year later when Robin was eleven. By then he had the fluency of a native speaker and, thanks to the elasticity of a child's brain, his accent had decreased significantly. It was also the time when Robin had revealed himself to Wally as Dick Grayson very much against Batman's orders. Wally, though he knew of Bruce Wayne and his contributions to society and that he was fostering a child, didn't really know much about Dick Grayson beyond that. He found video games way more interesting than current events, anyways.

That's when the question was dropped. "So...where are you from?"

Dick bit his lip and looked down before answering, "My family's from Romania but I was born in the circus so I grew up traveling all over Europe."

"Whoa, you were born in a circus?" Wally's eyes went wide. In his thirteen long years of living, he'd never met anyone from a circus before.

Dick nodded excitedly. "Yeah! Pop Haley's circus. They had an elephant named Zitka and everything! It was really cool. I did the trapeze. Well, not by myself of course. I was too young. I had my...uh..." The lights in his eyes dimmed a little as he continued, "You know, my parents. They...they did it with me."

Wally anxiously contorted his fingers on his lap. While he wasn't aware of what happened to Dick's parents or why he left the circus, he knew it must have been horrible for Dick to have had to leave his old life behind and start anew. He could always ask Barry about it later. "I'm sorry, Dick. You must miss them a lot."

Dick stared at his lap. "Yeah," he responded in a whisper.

Staring at Dick through scrunched eyebrows, Wally hesitated. Situations like this were completely out of his comfort zone and he did not know where to begin. He was from a little town outside of Central City filled with small, uncomplicated families. He never had a friend in this position before, a position where he had to leave a wild life in the circus to settle own in a foreign country with strangers. Nope, Wally had never seen  _that_ in his tiny town. Thankfully, it didn't seem like he had to do much as Dick made no attempt to want to broach the topic any further. The bird slyly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stared at the wall next to the duo to compose himself. He ran a hand through his thick raven locks and let out a final sigh, signaling that he was in an acceptable state to continue with their conversation.

Wally, getting the hint, pressed, "And your accent? Is that Romanian?"

Dick's head whipped back to Wally, his eyes dancing with impish light once again. "No! My family's Roma, so we speak Romani. Though I do know a bit of Romanian for when we would go out of the Romani town and stuff. Because, all the Roma live together, you know? It makes sense to live with the people that have your language and culture and stuff. So there wasn't really a reason to learn Romanian, especially since I didn't even live in the village at all because I was in the circus the whole time. I only ever went there if we had a break between tours in which we would go visit family. So yeah, I pretty much only spoke Romani but my mom was bilingual in Russian also so I would speak Russian with her sometimes. And the go-to language in the circus was French so I'm good at that too. But my accent is Romani."

"Whoa," Wally let out a breath. Dick spoke quickly, hardly pausing to breath between sentences. While Wally had guessed the bird's back story many times when he would lay awake at night unable to sleep, he never had come up with anything close to what Dick was giving him now. He knew that Dick didn't exactly have a stereotypical childhood, but this? This was insane.

"So...you're Romani. Your accent is Romani. And you also speak like four other languages. Wow. Good to know."

Dick's brow furrowed. "Only four? No, you forgot Spanish! I know Spanish too!"

Wally groaned, "Dude, not fair! How come you get to speak like three hundred languages when I only know one?"

Dick grinned, stood up, and bent over backwards until his hands touched the floor and he was in a perfectly rounded bridge. "It's cuz you didn't grow up in a circus, Kid Mouth!"

Wally got up and sat on the protégé's stomach, causing them both to tumble to the floor. "Yeah, whatever. Your accent's pretty cool."

Dick playfully pushed the older teen off him before sitting up. "Really?"

Wally grinned, "Yeah, man! You should teach me some Romani. That way we can talk in public and no one will no what we're saying! It'll be so fun!"

The eleven year old's blue eyes stared at Wally with amazement. None of his school friends showed any interest in his heritage besides average curiosity. And for Wally to want to learn his first language? When Wally had never shown any motivation to learn even Spanish? That was asterous.

Grinning, Dick nodded, "Alright Wall-man, let's do this!"

* * *

Artemis prided herself in being good at the details. She had to be, with Sportsmaster as her father and all. He was always so  _demanding_ of her as a child, never giving her so much as a water break until she got every detail of whatever they were doing down cold. Her sister was a natural at seemingly everything, and for Artemis her childhood was a game of catch up. If she couldn't keep pace with her sister, she would be punished. So she learned, very early on, to be quick and resourceful. Part of that consisted of paying attention to the details.

When she first met the bird in the cave, she thought something was  _off_ about him. And that wasn't even getting at the part where he didn't even trust the team to see the color of his eyes. No–it was something else. Something about the way he spoke.

Her, like everyone else, always assumed the Dynamic Duo was a father-and-son pairing. She figured Batman was married, had a son, something tragic happened to the wife to make him want to become Batman, and then Robin joined his dad's side once he became both old and skilled enough. It was simple and made sense. Batman seemed to be perpetually in a state of gloom, over the loss of his wife, while Robin seemed to be much lighter, which would make sense if he never really got to know his mom. Her death wouldn't have the same hold on Robin as it did with Batman. And besides, only tragedy really ever brought non-metas over to the life of a mask. Hell, her childhood was practically one tragedy after another.

Artemis had met Batman when he and Green Arrow showed up at her house one evening–uninvited, might she add–to convince her mom to let her join the Young Justice League. Or, that's what they probably thought would happen. Her mom needed no convincing, as she was just happy her youngest daughter would be away from the Shadows. Artemis was the one who needed convincing, truthfully. Looking back at it, she realized that maybe she caved a bit faster than they thought she would too. Maybe, deep down, she realized she  _needed_ this and took advantage of the opportunity. Hadn't she longed for another family her whole life? Hadn't she wanted to just  _be_ , without fear of her Dad or his buddies? Hadn't she wanted to share this part of her life with people her age?

Or she could have just been tired and wanted them to leave her house so she could go to sleep. That could have been equally possible.

So when Robin opened his mouth for the first time at the cave, she was taken aback. She realized that no, Robin and Batman didn't use the same phonetics when speaking. Robin's were different, more forced than Batman's. A sign of an accent, she realized. A sign that Robin wasn't Batman's son, at least not biologically.

She remembered the exact moment it hit her and how her eyes widened for a split second before she casually rolled them only because she could have sworn Batman's eyebrows raised under his cowl. No need to be suspicious of her before she even became a part of the team, thank you very much. She intended to stay here as long as possible.

During their first mission, she was a bit too distracted by a certain  _someone_  under that damn Cheshire mask along with an irritating speedster to care about the little bird. In fact, she forgot all about the life-altering realization she had about Robin until later that week when Robin came to the cave to hang out with Kid Annoying. She found herself at the cave most afternoons to train since she didn't have anything close to this gym at her run-down apartment. Robin, however, trained with Batman so he only really came over for missions and, as she was finding out now, to hang out with Wally. They seemed to do everything together but straight up make-out.

She heard the rumors that the two heroes were close. While public viewings of the two were infrequent, due to Batman's displeasure with having metas in his city, they weren't unheard of. Every once in a while someone would snap a photo of the two hanging out on top of a skyscraper or beating up some lowlife together and put it on their blog. However, she had no idea just how tight the two boys were. While it was commonly understood the two hung out more than Tumbler users could photograph them, she didn't realize they hung out every single week before the creation of the team. Now they were together all the time.

Witnessing this bromance for the first time, Artemis was helping M'gann in the kitchen with her cookies. Actually, she was watching the martian baking cookies. She wasn't a huge fan of cooking and baking after having to learn at such a young age when her sister ran away. But even though M'gann and her had gotten off to a rocky start, she found she actually  _liked_ hanging around with the green alien. M'gann was sweet, and Artemis wanted to get to know her more. Which is how she got to her position now, in the kitchen watching M'gann bake and stealing chocolate chips whenever the martian turned around. Ten feet away, the two barely-teenage boys were playing a new video game Robin had just got.

Robin whistled, "Wow, KF. I know this game is new and everything, but you're really bad at this."

There! There it was again. Some accent underlying his words. She couldn't figure out what language it came from, though. It must have been a lesser-known one.

Kid Idiot's voice rang out over her thoughts. "Yeah well, how would you like some of THIS-Oh, what? Are you kidding?"

She could  _feel_ the evil smirk on the younger boy's face. "Sneak attack!" He cackled. "I'm so traught right now."

What? Traught? What was up with that? Was that...no, that's not a word.

Kid Mouth's hands flew up in the air. His half of the screen flashed red. "How did you get behind me?"

"Because," Robin said flippantly, "You suck at video games."

Keeping her voice low, she tuned out the adolescent boys and turned to M'gan. "What's the deal with Boy Wonder?"

M'gann, startled, looked quizzically at Artemis. "What do you mean?"

"Like, uhh...his accent," she ran a hand through her thick blond hair. "You know where he's from?"

M'gann's eyes fixated on her slowly stirring bowl of cookie mix. She let out a tense breath. "No, no one here knows anything about him. Aside from Wally really. He knows a lot more about Robin than us, that much is obvious, but I don't know how much. I know the two hang out out-of-uniform. I hear them talk about it a lot. But, um, no one else knows anything about Robin. Apparently Batman's ordered him to keep his civilian life a secret from us."

Artemis frowned. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"Not really."

"But how?" She hissed. "How can you trust him if you don't know him?"

M'gann's eyes met Artemis', and the martian gave her a soft smile. "Well, I don't know much about you either, don't I? I know your name is Artemis and that you like archery and that you're good at fighting, but that's it. I still trust you, though. You're good, that much I can tell. And I don't even have to read your mind to find that out! Not that I would read your mind at all–" she backtracked a bit, eyes growing slightly panicked, "–No, I would never do that without your permission. But, um, I know you have my back, Artemis. That's all that I need. The same goes for Robin."

Artemis nodded at the new information, her head swiveling back to the two boys on the couch who were seemingly in their own little world with that video game. Robin, in his slightly accented voice, was antagonizing the red-head next to him, who was trying his best not to die every minute of the game.

True, she was going to trust Robin and she was going to respect his secret ID. But the accent? She was going to figure that out. After all, she was good with the details. And this little detail of Robin was not getting by her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These updates are coming quickly because I already have a bunch written. They'll slow down soon though.


	3. Death

**Characters: Dick, Wally**

**Pairings: None**

**Summary: Wally had thought he'd seen Dick's bad days. Nothing could have prepared him for this.**

* * *

Wally had gotten in yet another fight with his father. They'd never had a good relationship to begin with, but it only seemed to grow worse as Wally aged. His dad wanted him to be a football star and a girl-charmer, and while Wally would like to think he was at least 50% of that equation, both he and his father knew he wasn't bringing home the popular cheerleaders every weekend. Or ever – more accurately. He wasn't a macho football dude, he was a skinny science nerd who loved to run and eat food. When he was younger he tried to change himself, but overtime he realized it only made him more miserable. So he stopped trying and started  _living,_ which pissed off his father to no end. After that shift in personality, what they could even dare to call a "relationship" crumbled at the seams.

That's when the big fights started. True, they argued before, but it worsened exponentially once Wally realized that nothing he could ever change about himself would ever please his father. Coincidentally, that was also when he started spending more time at Uncle Barry's house. So much so, that Aunt Iris gave him his own room to sleep in and he stored an extra few sets of clothing at their place. And while his mother certainly noticed his absence, she didn't say anything about it. Wally figured she was probably just relieved all the raised voices and slamming doors had quieted down a little.

When the team formed, Wally found himself splitting his time between Uncle Barry's and the Cave. He always  _did_ feel kinda guilty about how much he imposed himself in their lives. And although Aunt Iris made sure to let him know that he was welcome anytime and how she loved having him over, he couldn't help but feel like a burden.

So that's how he ended up here, alone on a couch in the lounge area of the Cave, listening to music through his earbuds and tapping away at his phone. M'gann was hanging out with her cheerleader friends tonight and Conner was...out maybe? Probably spying on M'gann. Although, both Wolf and the Sphere was gone. So who knew?

The only person who he'd seen was Artemis, who had stopped by to train earlier that evening. Wally wasn't a detective, but even he knew she didn't have a gym like this at her disposal back in...wherever she was from. Did anyone  _really_  believe she was Green Arrow's niece? Wally certainly didn't. And he  _knew_ Dick didn't either. At first he was desperate to find out more about that girl, but after some time he backed off. He realized it just wasn't worth it, and it wasn't like he actually  _cared_ about her. At all. It was stupid of anyone to think he would.

Because he didn't.

Duh.

Lost in thought, he hardly registered the beta tube firing up and certainly wasn't paying attention to whoever it announced. It was probably just M'gann coming back from her night out. But wasn't it kind of early?

Wally heard a sniff from above him. Frowning, he paused his Spotify playlist and looked up to find the small stature of Dick. His tan hands were shoved into the pockets of his dark hoodie and his messy black hair was tilted down, hiding his sunglasses from view. Looking closely, Wally could see how his mouth was pinched into thin lines and trembled slightly. He shifted his weight slightly on his feet but still didn't look up to meet Wally's eyes.

"Rob?" Wally stood suddenly, towering above the small boy. Wally had always been taller than the younger male, and a recent growth spurt – thanks to his teenage hormones – only added to this effect.

He reached out to grasp the shoulder of his friend but thought better and let it drop at his side. "What...what happened?"

Dick inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. He opened his mouth to speak but only a strangled sound came out. He brought one hand under his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. If his shoulders were shaking before, it was more noticeable now.

Wally frowned and, suddenly getting over his hesitations, gripped his friends arm with gentle hands. Sometimes Dick just needed a little nudge in the right direction in order to open up to Wally. "Dick, it's okay. Just tell me what's going on."

Dick shook his head violently. "It's not, it's not okay – it's never...no."

Green eyes widened. Wally guided his friend to the couch where the younger boy's legs all but collapsed down onto the cushiony surface. He watched as Dick's hands grasped the edge of the couch, squeezing the cushion so hard Wally was afraid he might rip the fabric. His breath was ragged and he bowed his head in an effort to collect himself. Wally stared unblinking as his friend attempted to save himself from a complete meltdown. He hadn't seen his friend like this ever. Not even when he talked about his old life to Wally, though by that point his family had been gone for a little over two years. The initial meltdown-grief stage had passed by then – not that Dick still didn't still cry about them. Wally had certainly seen Dick on The Anniversary since he found out about the bird's secret ID.

But this...this scared him. Wally's calm exterior masked his frozen interior. Dick was always so carefree and  _happy,_ something that Wally tried to emulate as best he could. He was always so jealous about how Dick could have such a shitty history but yet wake up every morning smiling. So what was this?

When it became clear Dick wasn't calming down anytime soon, Wally tried again in the most gentle voice he could manage, "Dick?"

Glasses clattered to the ground as Dick broke down in heaving sobs. He brought his knees to his chest and masked his face from view as he crumbled before Wally's eyes. Wally stared at him in horror and shock, listening to the ugly sobs rip through Dick's throat.

"Dick...please..." Wally said weakly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Dick muttered back in between gasps of air, scrubbing his face with his hands as if to hide the tears from existence.

"No, you don't have to – just what happened?" Wally could hardly think clearly through his shock. His eyes flickered to the obsidian eyeglasses strewn on the floor. The ones that Batman forbade him from ever taking off in the Cave.

Wally hesitantly rested a hand of Dick's back and rubbed circles against the thick fabric of his hoodie in a feeble attempt to get his friend to calm down enough to tell him just what the hell was going on.

Although it didn't seem to be working, Dick still managed to choke out, "It's Rick...it's Uncle Rick..."

Panic seized Wally and for a moment his continuous motions faltered. He instantly recalled who that person was and...oh  _shit._

Dick's parents hadn't been the only ones on the trapeze that night. Also performing was Dick's older cousin John and his father, or Dick's uncle, Rick. The teenager and his father too fell when the rope snapped, leaving Dick with no one to return back to. His cousin fell headfirst and died on impact, while his uncle's neck snapped when he hit the ground. Though Uncle Rick was the only survivor of that fall, it had come at a terrible cost. He never woke up.

He may have well have been dead, as he had remained on life support at the hospital since the accident. It was also assumed that, if he ever woke up, he would be completely paralyzed from the neck down. At first, Dick had been hopeful he might wake from his coma, and as soon as he entered Bruce Wayne's care he made a point to visit his uncle in the hospital every week. But as those weeks turned into months which then stretched into years, Dick's visits became fewer and farther between. He, even though he tried so desperately hard not to, was starting to lose hope. He recently confided in Wally that the doctors told him at this point, it would take a miracle for the man to awake. Dick admitted he wasn't sure his Uncle would even want to wake up into a world where he couldn't fly.

Wally knew this was a long time coming, but he had to ask. He had to get his suspicions confirmed. "Dick," he said in a surprisingly controlled tone, "What about Rick?"

This sent his friend into another wave of hysterical sobbing. With each passing breath, Wally's suspicion slowly transformed into dread. But he had to know. For his friend's sake, he had to know. "What happened?"

"I...I..." Dick hid his face in his hands and rocked back and forth on the couch. "We're...um...I'm ending it. I'm *hic* stopping...everything."

Wally forgot how to breath.

He didn't know how to react. How  _could_ you react? What could he possibly say that would make this situation any less tragic than it already was? He couldn't make this better. There was  _nothing_ he could do. Just what do you say to a friend that's choosing to take their uncle off life support? A friend who decided enough was enough because his uncle wasn't waking up any time soon? Or ever, really. What could he do? He was trained to help people, to  _save_ people's  _lives._ No one told him what to do when a life would be taken away. No training Canary had put him through could even  _start_ to compare to this.

Suddenly he was angry. He wasn't angry at Dick. No, he was pissed that the world kept giving Dick this crap. Couldn't the Universe pick on someone else for a change? Why did Dick have to constantly be at the receiving end of this? Shouldn't the accident have been  _enough?_  Why does he have to keep dealing with its aftereffects?

He let out a long breath and slowly came back to his senses.

"Bro..." he started. "I'm so sorry."

Dick looked up at him with the most pained expression Wally had ever seen on the young bird. His face was red, his blue eyes were bloodshot, and tears coated his cheeks. At the eye contact Dick crumbled once again and Wally, without thinking, pulled the young boy closer to him. His shoulder almost immediately felt wet as tears seeped through his thin olive green shirt. Wally didn't register any of this, though. The only thing on his mind was the sound of Dick's heart-wrenching sobs.

Wally had never felt so helpless in his life as he held his friend in his arms, as if trying to protect him from the horrors of reality. He wondered if Dick even felt his touch.

Wally licked his lips before asking, "When?"

"Monday," came the immediate response.

_Oh._

That was only three days away.

"Dick, I'm  _so_ sorry." Because what else could he say?

"I just," Dick let out a strangled laugh. "I'm going to be all alone, you know? I'm the last Grayson. I can't...I don't want to be alone. Why do I have to be alone, Wally? Why couldn't he wake up? Why did he have to leave me? Why did they all leave me?"

Wally's eyes squeezed shut at that admission from his friend. Guilt weighed down on him. He knew Dick wasn't  _actually_ alone, and he also knew Dick was aware of this too. So why did Wally feel so guilty?

"I don't know, bro," Wally admitted after a few silent breaths. "It's stupid this happened. It's stupid you have to go through this."

Because that's really it.

He couldn't say anything else. Nothing he could say would sum up this situation better. It's unfair and tragic and... _stupid._

_Fuck._

"Will you come to the funeral?"

Wally actually snorted. "Obviously I will. Dick, you're not going through this alone, you hear me? I'm not leaving your side all week, bro. Actually, scratch that, I'm not leaving your side until you physically have to eject me from your house. You're going to be so sick of me by the end of this all."

Dick managed a weak giggle. "I highly doubt that. But thanks."

The duo stayed in this position, slouched on the couch with Wally's larger arms wrapped protectively around the younger boy for the remainder of the night. Dick, exhausted, drifted off into sleep at some point and Wally had to shield his face from view when M'gann and, not too far after, Conner returned from their nights out. One pained look down at the pair and both heroes-in-training silently went to their rooms for the night.

The zeta tube announced Batman's arrival some time later. Batman swiftly strode over to collect the sleeping boy in his arms – as well the long-since-forgotten sunglasses – and left with a gruff "thanks" to the speedster.

Wally, alone with his thoughts, decided that he was going to prove Dick wrong. He  _would_ be at his side as long as the boy needed him. He wouldn't let the younger boy down. He couldn't, not for something like this.

No, not for something like this.


	4. Affixes

**Characters: Dick, Wally**

**Pairings: None**

**Summary: The English language really stressed Dick out sometimes.**

* * *

"I just don't get it," Dick said from his upside-down position off Wally's bed. The two boys were hanging out at Wally's house for an overnight. They were ecstatic, as Daddy Bats seemed incredibly reluctant to let Dick go. Wally liked to think he was dazzlingly persuasive, but it probably had more to do with the fact that Iris personally assured Bruce she would stay on top of them.

"What do you mean?" asked Wally as he continued to beat up virtual bad-guy ass on the television, taking advantage of Dick's distraction. Normally Dick was better at video games than Wally, but the younger boy had been off his game tonight so currently Wally was leading the scoreboard.

Dick sighed. "There's just so many words that can't exist without their prefix in the English language. It makes no sense to me. Those poor words..."

Wally choked on air.

"I made a list of them on my phone last week in school. I never knew there were so many. And I probably only got a portion of them!"

Wally had to pause the game.

Dick turned to the redheaded boy. "Here, take the word flect. You can deflect something, you can reflect something, something can have flection, but can you 'flect?' Can something have 'flect?' No! It doesn't exist!"

Wally set down his controller and started his usual speech of, "Dick, the English language came into contact with many other languages in Europe resulting in some minor differences—"

"No!" Dick stood up and began pacing Wally's room. "I refuse to believe that people just lost all these root words like that! How could they keep 'deflect,' 'reflect,' 'flection,' and even 'inflect,' but not have 'flect'? It makes no sense! I can say, 'wow look at the trajectory of the reflected ball when it deflected off the board that had lots of flection to it' but I can't say, 'Wow, that board really flects things well!' Are you kidding me? What kind of anarchy do we live in!"

Wally facepalmed. "Dick, it's just  _one_ set of words. This isn't anarchy."

Dick whirled around to face Wally, his eyes wide with shock and mouth open in disgust. Blue eyes glared down at his friend as he exclaimed, "Just  _one_ set of words? One?! Oh no, this problem is far larger than just a matter of 'flect!'"

Wally shifted uncomfortably. "Whoa man, I don't think this is that big a deal..."

Before Wally could so much as blink, Dick had whipped his phone out and was tapping on the sleek screen. Moments later, Dick's pages of notes was shoved in Wally's perplexed face with the accompanying, "See? Do you see all these words? These poor roots with no place to go?"

Swatting the smartphone out of his face, Wally shouted, "Yeah, cool it!"

"No, I won't back down from this," Dick stated passionately. "Not until words like 'afflicted' and 'inflicted' can have just a 'flict' on their own! Not until someone can be 'unkempt'  _and_ just 'kempt!' Not until you can 'infringe' on someone and 'fringe' on them too! No until you can be 'discombobulated' and just 'combobulated' as well! Not until a thing can be 'disputable' and 'putable!' I won't stand for this disorganization and anarchy in the Universe!"

"For the last time, we don't live in an anarchy!" Wally exclaimed, hardly believing someone with so many responsibilities actually had the  _time_ and  _energy_ to analyze the goddamn English language and compose a list of its imperfections.

Dick crossed his arms, "That's just what they  _want_  you to think!"

"Oh my god," Wally muttered, facepalming again.

"I'm just saying, until I can say the sentence, 'When the kempt girl chalantly approached the gruntled man who was turbed to see her presence, he tractedly led her to a coffee shop that was furling in array' with no weird looks, this world is officially in chaos!"

Mouth agape, Wally blinked. "Why do you do the things that you do?"

Dick threw his arms up exasperatingly. "Well someone has to!"

Swallowing thickly, Wally asked, "Can we just get back to video games like normal kids?"

Dick huffed and sat back down on the bed. Crossing his legs and picking back up his controller, Dick replied, "Well if that would make you traught."

"Dick!"


	5. English Language Learner

**Characters: Bruce, Dick, Alfred**

**Pairings: None**

**Summary: Dick didn't really speak English when he was young, so Bruce and Alfred learned Romani before he came home for the first time.**

* * *

No amount of money in the world could have made the process of getting Richard Grayson out of the juvenile detention center quick enough. Bruce learned this the hard way, after putting buckets of money into hiring the best lawyers and getting the paperwork sped up as fast as he could. Unfortunately, this wasn't fast enough. Two months after the Flying Grayson's demise and Bruce was hardly scratching the surface of the system.

He was frustrated and powerless. He knew the longer that little nine year old boy stayed in juvie, the worse it was going to be when he got out. If Bruce had it his way, Batman would have swooped in weeks ago to seize the boy out of his tiny jail cell. But, of course, that would never work. So Batman, for once, would have to take a back seat in this grueling process.

The whole language thing was Alfred's idea initially. After listening to one of Bruce's many rants about Gotham's child's services system, Alfred suggested that since there's not much else he can do to bring Richard home faster, he might as well learn the child's language. It would help Richard feel more comfortable when he  _did_ finally step foot onto the intimidating property Since Bruce was already adept at most of the major languages including English, Spanish, French, Latin, Russian, Mandarin, Portuguese, Arabic, and Kryptonian, what was one more to him?

According to Richard's Social Services report, his English speaking skills could hardly qualify as a level one on the ELL scale. Neither of his late parents spoke English at home, so therefore he only knew the words he'd picked up around the circus. Bruce had a sinking feeling the massive communication barrier between Richard and social services was more or less the reason as to why he discarded like a three month old banana into the juvenile detention center. He couldn't speak up for himself, and no one else seemed to care aside from the circus members who social services quickly shut up, citing their quirky lifestyle as unfit for the eight year old boy.

So he dove into the Romani language...or he tried to. The realization that Romani was not originally a written language hit him with full force almost immediately. After scouring online for hours, he had barely scraped together enough books to get him past the entry level. Not to mention he had no idea which dialect Richard spoke. Though, that was nothing a quick phone call to a certain Haley couldn't fix. A phone call to a tutor and several books later, Bruce was well on his way to learning Vlax Romani.

Unlike many other languages he'd taken to learn, Bruce strove to perfect this one. It was a special, delicate language that signified so much to the incoming foster kid. It was his past, his culture, his only permanent connection to his late parents, and it was the one thing Richard had his whole life. Bruce was not messing this up. When he finally got a date to take Richard home months later, he only worked harder to learn the language. He hired more tutors and even flew to Romania to immerse with the local speakers of the language and culture. Alfred, seemingly surprised at Bruce's dedication, joined in on the tutoring sessions too. And in the weeks leading up to Richard's arrival, they attempted evenings where they only spoke in Romani at the dinner table.

A week before the arranged pick up date, Bruce went in to visit the boy in the detention center. Nervousness jumped at him the moment he stepped out of his shiny black limo. He felt hot air brush at his uniform as Alfred slammed the door shut behind him.

"Sir, are you sure you want to do this alone?" Alfred politely asked, his expressionless face doing little to mask the worry in his tone.

Bruce lifted a hand to block the sunlight as he gazed up at the bleak building. "I'll be fine, Alfred. Wait here."

The man silently nodded and stepped back into the vehicle just as two large security guards flanked either side of his peripheral vision. Years of Batman training kicked in, and he suppressed a slight flinch. "Come to escort me in?" he asked, putting on his award-winning dopy smile.

The guards didn't react. "Follow us, Mr. Wayne."

They checked in at security, and Bruce shook hands and made small talk with the man who he  _assumed_ ran the place. He couldn't remember. He was too busy running through Romani verb conjugations in his head. This...this was it. Although short, this was the first time he would be able to talk to the boy that was coming to stay with him for an undisclosed amount of time. True, Bruce had technically met him at the funeral, but he hadn't approached the boy at all. He was sure the last thing Richard wanted to hear was an, "I'm sorry for your loss" from a complete stranger. So he stood back, letting Richard be with those closest to him from the circus.

Bruce walked down the dreary hallway, his footsteps and the heavy breaths of one of the guards next to him echoing down the space. They stopped abruptly, having reached a metal door. The guard pushed open the heavy door and grunted a, "We're here."

He slowly made his way into a relatively well-lit—yet still depressingly monotone—meeting room with several small metal tables and chairs decorating the area and guards filling every corner. A few other families held quiet conversation with their children, and Bruce noted the tears leaking down one mother's face.

"Over there," said one guard, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He sat down and carefully placed his hands on his lap. Now for the waiting game. He tried to picture Richard's expression as he was told he had a visitor. Would he be excited? Confused? Sad? Did he even know who Bruce was?

The door on the far side of the room opened and shut. Bruce winced. The almost nine-year-old boy shuffled into the metal room, escorted by a guard, with his head down and bruises decorating his features. Bruce zeroed into every movement of the sickly-looking child. Anger clouded his thoughts at the way the boy nervously sat down in the metal chair and fidgeted as if waiting to be punished. Bruce felt his hands curl into fists under the table.

Bruce would never forget the way he had to remain calm, smile politely at the boy, and say in the best accent he could muster, " _Hello, Richard. My name is Bruce."_

Richard paused, his mouth slightly opened. He swallowed thickly before responding in a much quieter voice,  _"You speak Romani?"_

 _"Yes, some,"_ Bruce said. And that was it. He had been so caught up in getting that first sentence as articulate as possible, he had forgotten how he was going to introduce the topic of fostering the young child. The young, traumatized, terrified-looking child.

Fortunately, Bruce didn't have to wait long before Richard spoke again.  _"I heard you paid for my parents' funerals. Thank you."_

Bruce tore his eyes away from the child, almost not catching what he said through his rapid speech. After a slight pause as Bruce formulated a response, he said,  _"You're welcome. It was the least I could do to help."_

Richard finally looked up at the tall man. " _What are you doing here?"_

 _"I want to introduce me,"_ Bruce responded slowly.  _"I want to get to know you before you move in with me."_

The boy's eyes widened.  _"Why? Why do you want me? What are you going to do with me?"_

Bruce sighed. " _Richard, you do not deserve to be here. What happen that bad day was not your fault. It is not fair you are...be...punish like this. It was not your fault."_

Richard quickly lowered his head again, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.  _"I'm sorry,"_ he whispered.

"No.  _It's not your fault._ _It's okay, Richard. It's okay. I want to help you."_

 _"_ Dick _._  Name me."

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. Both at the words and the sudden language shift. "Huh?"

Dick wiped his eyes and spoke with a thick accent, separating each word and forcefully enunciating each syllable. "My name is Dick."

"Alright," Bruce smiled and said slowly. "Well, Dick, I'm going to be fostering you starting next week." He paused, "Do you understand me?"

Dick shook his head.

"It means you will be living with me." He grimaced at Dick's oblivious look before trying out the complex sentence in his language, " _I am not want to replace your parents, Richard, but I want to give you safe place to grow up. You will be live with me. That okay?"_

Dick shrugged.

 _"I come here and get you next week,"_ Bruce tried.

Dick remained silent, his eyes refusing to land back on Bruce's.

An awkward silence took hold on the pair before Bruce finally nodded and stood up. " _Well, Dick, I see you next week. You stay safe, okay?"_

Dick didn't respond.

The week flew by and before Bruce knew it, Alfred and Dick were pulling up to the mansion. The first few weeks were hell. Dick was quiet, stayed out of Bruce's way, and didn't unpack the ratty backpack he brought with him. It was almost as if he was afraid of being sent back to juvie. That one tiny misdemeanor would get him kicked out. Bruce wasn't much better either. He, half not understanding how to bond with the boy and half too afraid to try, spent most of his time away from the mansion either at work or with the Justice League. This pattern continued until Alfred, fed up with Bruce's lack of presence, emergency-locked the Batcave, informing Bruce that he could have his freedom back if he graced their presence at dinner.

Thus ensued the most awkward conversation Bruce would have since his first interaction with Kent outside the mask.

" _So...Dick..."_ Bruce cursed himself silently. In the weeks since receiving Dick, he'd forgotten to keep up with his Romani. And he'd also forgotten to sign Dick up with an English tutor. There was only a month left before school started.

" _What did you do today, Master Richard?"_ Alfred supplied.

Dick shrugged and picked at his rice. Apparently he was equally as uncomfortable as Bruce with this situation. Curse Alfred.

" _It's supposed to be a nice day tomorrow. Perhaps you would like to explore Gotham a bit?"_ Alfred tried again.

Dick shrugged. His blue eyes burned holes in the table.

" _How about the park? Would you like to go to the park, Master Richard?"_

At that suggestion, Dick's face seemed to perk up a bit. Alfred and Bruce exchanged a look.

" _Why doesn't Master Bruce take you down to the park tomorrow? Around noon? Does that seem good?"_ Alfred pushed.

"Yes," Dick responded in English. "It good."

They didn't get much more conversation out of Dick after that point, and so Bruce and Alfred found themselves switching back to English. Eventually, the table dispersed and Dick silently slipped out of the dining room and padded up the stairs to his large room. Watching the young child leave, Bruce wondered if Dick still got lost in the large mansion. If he had even explored it, or if he was too nervous to go into the many hallways and rooms. Guilt clawed at Bruce's stomach, as he was once again reminded of how little he knew the boy.

"Alfred," Bruce said quietly. "Did I make a mistake?"

Alfred froze, a plate dangling from his fingertips. He responded in a strained voice, "What do you mean, Master Bruce?"

"The boy, Alfred. I'm no good for him. He nervous around me, he doesn't talk to me. No, I know I don't talk to him either. How can I? I'm not fluent in Romani and he can barely get two words out in English. I don't know what I'm doing."

A thin smile graced Alfred's pale lips. "Well then, Master Bruce, I guess you'll both just have to learn to be bilingual in this household."

Bruce stayed up late that night. Not to be Batman, even though Alfred had unlocked the batcave, but to do a late night Vlax-Romani cram session. Determination to get close to this child engulfed him, along with the refusal to give up. Tomorrow, he told himself, was a new day. It was a new opportunity that Alfred handed to him on a silver platter to bond with the boy. If the child didn't know English yet, Bruce was going to make sure they could at least converse in Romani. And after all, who didn't love a day at the park?

The morning came too fast for Bruce who, after his all-nighter, was too exhausted to even think about going outside. Nevertheless, a polite knock came on his office door at exactly noon.

"Come in," Bruce said, waving at a closed door. He didn't look up from his book.

The door slowly opened but no British accent accompanied it. Frowning at the lack of sound, Bruce glanced up to where Alfred's eye level was...or would be, if there was an old British man standing under the frame. He quickly swept his eyes lower until he reached a mess of black hair over a tan forehead and black eyes surrounded by strong, black eyelashes.

"Dick," Bruce started.

"I sorry," Dick said, his hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of an old Haley's Circus shirt. "Alfred say you in oh...off-fish."

"Ah, yes. I'm in my office. That's correct. I apologize Dick, I was doing some reading. I must have gotten carried away with the time."

The young orphan blinked.

Bruce coughed awkwardly.

Dick bit his lip.

Bruce glanced at his watch.  _"_ _I promised to take you to the park now, yes? Let's go."_

Dick's eyes lit up.  _"Yes, okay!"_

Scratching his head at the sudden shift in mood from the child, Bruce followed Dick downstairs where Alfred stood waiting to drive them to the park. The butler gave him a mischievous look before turning to the young child right behind the billionaire.  _"Are you excited to go to the park, Master Dick?"_

Dick bounced on his toes. "Yes, sir!  _It has been so long since I was at one. Not since our last tour in Europe!"_

Bruce grimaced at the rapid speech he realized he had to follow along with for the rest of the afternoon.

" _I hear Europe have, uh, good parks."_

The skinny child nodded his head excitedly. " _They're a lot bigger than the ones in America! The jungle gyms are huge! Like, the size of a castle! And they got so many things to climb on and swing on. Of course, the swings aren't as high as the ones in the circus-"_

Dick gasped and bit his lip, blue eyes going wide. " _I, I mean,"_

Alfred locked eyes with Bruce and glanced down at the small boy before saying sadly, "I'll be outside when you're ready" and heading out the door. The deep brown wooden doors leading to the garage shut, echoing around the empty house. Bruce's dark eyes surveyed the spacious hallway. The usually shiny white tiles didn't sparkle like they normally would, and Bruce never realized how dull the paintings seemed against their bland backgrounds. The light from the window wasn't pouring into the house like it usually did. Bruce never realized how lonely the mansion was before.

He knelt down to the child's level, who was doing his best to avoid crying by glaring at the ground, and put his large hand on the boy's shoulder. His large hand all but encased the boy, and Bruce swore he felt bone poking through the ratty shirt and into his calloused hands. "Dick, it's okay.  _I understand. It's okay, Dick."_

Tears distorted the bright blue pigments of his eyes.

Bruce continued. " _I lost my parents too. It's a terrible thing, I understand. It okay to cry if you need to."_

Dick sniffed. "Sorry. I sorry."

" _You didn't do anything, Dick. There's no need to be sorry."_

Dick shook his head venomously. "Sorry!"

Bruce's thick eyebrows creased. " _Why are you sorry?"_

Dick squeezed his eyes shut. " _Because!"_ a sob escaped through his tight lips. " _I'm just being a burden!"_

Bruce's eyes flew open. "No..." He muttered. It hit him. All the time alone, not paying attention to Dick, not comforting him through this trauma or helping him assimilate to an entirely new culture. Bruce was selfish. He was guarding himself and at the cost of a child, a poor helpless child who didn't ask for any of this to happen to him and who wanted nothing more than his parents back. Bruce realized he was a terrible guardian. He remembered how when he lost his own parents he felt so alone, even though he had Alfred with him the whole time. He could never undue those years of loneliness and envy at all of his friends and their families. And here he was allowing those same feelings, plus more, to suffocate this small child. He wasn't doing a thing to stop them from drowning Dick.

Without thinking, Bruce wrapped his arms around his new ward and drew him close. " _Dick, I'm sorry. You not a burden. Never think so. I'm sorry for making you alone. It's not your fault."_

The floodgates opened. Bruce wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he was sure that whatever internal panic that was suffocating the young boy about living with Bruce had left. For the most part, at least. Though, he was sure that this topic would be broached again as soon as the reporters caught wind of this new living arrangement. But he wasn't about to touch  _that_ thought with a ten foot pole right now. Not while he was busy rubbing circles into a tiny nine-year-old boy's back. A tiny nine-year-old boy who didn't deserve all the crap life was throwing at him right now and was forced to settle in a new country with a new culture and a new language. One that Bruce still struggled to communicate with.

No, he didn't have time to worry about the future. All that mattered was right here, right now, helping Dick to come to terms with his parents' deaths.

Eventually, the sobbing turned to sniffles and the heaving breaths turned to hiccups. Dick wiped his eyes for the hundredth time and peeled his head away from Bruce's shoulder. "I sorry for sad."

Bruce frowned. "Dick,  _don't apologize. You have nothing for being sorry for. You know what will make this all better?"_

 _"What?"_ he asked, his bright blue eyes locked with Bruce's brown ones.

"Ice cream!" Bruce exclaimed.

"What scream?" Dick asked, confusion entering his visage.

"It's uh... _I don't know the word in your language. Um, it cold and...sweet."_

At Dick's confused face, Bruce pulled out his cell phone and after a quick Google search, showed Dick a photo of the sweet desert. His face lit up with an, " _Ohhhh! Ice cream, yes my mother always used to get us some in Europe! Oh, can we please get some?"_

Bruce grinned, " _Okay, new plan! Ice cream and then park! That good?_ "

Dick's eyes glittered with delight. He turned and cartwheeled to the front door, shouting, " _Iceeee creaaammm!"_

***Eight Months Later***

Bruce shut the car door with a quick, "Thanks Alfred," and strode towards the school. Gotham Academy Elementary School. It was the end of the day, and the kids were pouring into the wide sidewalk in front of the school either headed towards a bus or waiting for their parents or drivers. Dick, however, was not waiting to go home. He and Bruce had another task to complete before they could go home. And the little tuft of black hair against olive skin was all Bruce needed to know which direction to walk to among the sea of students.

"Dick!" Bruce called out when he got close.

The black hair whipped around to reveal the face of nine-year-old Dick Grayson, which split into a grin at the sight of his guardian. "Bruce!  _Come on, we're going to be late!_ " He grabbed Bruce's hand and tugged him into the crowd of students and teachers.

The loud break from English was especially out of place at this upper-class monolingual school. Many kids around him gave him confused looks. Bruce had no doubt this was one of the first bilingual peers they've ever interacted with.

"Calm down, Dick. We're not going to be late. School just got out!"

" _Yeah, and that's when the teacher_ said  _to meet her! So we're late!_ "

" _Alright, alright_!" Bruce chuckled, following his ward's lead through the large, glass double-doors into the pristine hallway. The white tiles glistened in the sunlight, giving the entire school a natural glow. This was  _the_ private school for rich children, and there had been no question that Bruce would send Dick here. Why wouldn't he? Everyone in his social circle did.

What he  _hadn't_ taken into account was because of the wealthy families who sent their children to this elementary school, all the kids came from the same background. They all grew up from wealthy-English speaking parents and were read many English books to them as toddlers. They grew up with their English-speaking friends and attended parties where everyone spoke the same language. Dick, on the other hand, grew up in a traveling circus with a Romani family. To say the school was perfectly one hundred percent prepared to take him in would be an abysmal lie at that. In truth, the school ended up having to hire new staff (Bruce Wayne was rumored to have donated considerably to the school for completely unrelated reasons) to accommodate the English Language Learner. Whenever the class worked on new literature, grammar, writing, etc., an ESL teacher pulled Dick out of the classroom and brought him to a learning center to work on his own material. That, combined with the private tutors Bruce hired outside of school and the plasticity of a child's brain, allowed Dick to pick up the English language faster than Bruce could have imagined.

" _We're here!_ " Dick announced in a sing-song voice as they entered the main office. Of course, no amount of tutors could replace Romani as Dick's preferred language. Dick mainly used Romani in the household, especially on school days. Despite what his social-circle might think, Bruce didn't care which language Dick chose to speak in at home. And he knew that there was only so much English Dick could take in a day before his brain overloaded. So if the kid wanted to use Romani at home, Bruce wasn't about to stop him.

"Ok, Chum. Go sit on one of those chairs. I'll be out in a few minutes," Bruce said, glancing over to the secretary. Much to Bruce's relief, she smiled and mouthed,  _I'll watch him._

Bruce winked back at the young woman and continued down a short, carpeted hallway consisting of a few doors, most likely leading to administration offices. Upon reaching the one labeled CONFERENCE, Bruce opened the wooden door and stepped in. Immediately, four people stood up to shake his hand.

"Hi," a petite woman greeted him first. She was Dick's teacher, Mrs. Sawyer. She was quite young, newly married, and had her soft brown hair tightened into a bun. She wore an aqua knee-length dress which matched her bright green eyes. To Bruce, she was an incredible first teacher and a blessing to Dick. She was patient, kind, and knew exactly how to reign in Dick's energy and help him focus without yelling at him.

Bruce returned the greeting and eyed the next person to step up. This woman was a bit older, probably in her mid-forties, with thick, wavy black hair and tan skin. She was Mrs. Ramos, the ELL teacher. She dressed in classic professional black attire with purple accents and despite her sharp features, she smiled warmly at Bruce. "Thank you for coming"

"It's always a pleasure," Bruce said smoothly, turning to the next person. This was a woman Bruce vaguely remembered from their meetings at the beginning of the year. She was the third grade counselor, Ms. Todd. Ms. Todd was a squat woman with bright blue reading glasses and red lipstick. Her hair was styled in a bob which reached just below her ears. She was quite odd, but a nice lady.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Bruce shook her hand and turned to the last person in the room, an older man with graying brown hair, a similarly colored beard, and a charcoal suit. The skin around his brown eyes crinkled as he smiled and he thin lips stretched into a grin.

"Hello, Mr. Foster. It's always a pleasure to see you."

"Mr. Wayne, please! Call me John." The man eagerly shook his hand."Come, take a seat."

The five adults settled into chairs along the wooden oval conference table. Bruce reached down into his black briefcase and pulled out a manila folder labeled  _Richard Grayson,_ And opened it to reveal various progress reports, graded papers, and printed emails from over the course of the year. He spread them before him, clasped his hands together, and looked up at the adults before him.

The principal cleared his throat and began, "You're a busy man, Mr. Wayne, and once again we thank you for meeting with us this afternoon. It has come to our attention that over the course of the year, Richard's grades have skyrocketed in ways that do not line up with the average ESL learner."

Mrs. Sawyer took it from there. "Richard scored low on his initial placement exam in certain areas, specifically his reading skills. But he scored far above his grade in his math skills. In third grade children learn how to multiply and divide. However, on his placement he took before entering this grade level, Richard could do the section through long division, which is a skill children learn in forth grade. This means that Richard could actually do two full years of math above his age."

"Right, I remember that," Bruce murmured, looking at the copy of the scores. That had been quite the shock to both Bruce and the school administration. If anything, Bruce thought he would have had to hold Dick back a grade. "But his reading skills...He nearly scored a zero on that section."

" _Exactly_ ," the principal stressed, leaning in on the table. "You'll remember in the meeting that we couldn't move him above or below his current age group. His math skills were two years ahead of his grade, and his reading skills were two years behind his grade."

"Yes," Bruce agreed. That had been  _quite_ the stressful meeting.

Mrs. Ramos brushed an invisible spec of dust off her top and said, "Around age eight is the end of the period where children can pick up a new language effortlessly. Initially, I was concerned that he would have trouble learning the language since he came in with such low English skills and he is right around that cut-off age. But he is one of the quickest learners I've ever had the pleasure of working with. While it is likely he will have an accent for the rest of his life, seeing that he is nine and is still gaining fluency in the language, he will have no problems graduating out of the ELL program. As it stands, he has recently moved to a Level Three learner."

Bruce nodded. "He's communicating much better at home. He favors Romani, and I don't expect that to change anytime soon, but I can now speak freely in English and he'll follow along pretty well. Even if he doesn't pick up every little word, he can at least get the gist of what I'm telling him. It's really remarkable to watch."

"And in my classroom he is following my instructions much better than at the beginning of the year. He doesn't have that fish-out-of-water look on his face anymore," Mrs. Sawyer added.

"I haven't seen him much this second-half of the school year, which is always a good thing," Ms. Todd chirped. "I met with him frequently last fall because he was still adjusting and in the beginning stages of the grieving process, seeing as he couldn't do much grieving in the detention center, but since January I really haven't seen him at all. I check up on him every once in a while, of course, but he hasn't come to my office on his own accord at all."

"His grades are a lot better too," Bruce said, pulling out the latest progress report card. "He has nearly straight A's. In fact, the only time he brings home B's is when the tests involve a lot of reading and writing."

"It's clear that his previous family kept up on his education beyond his average age group," Mr. Foster said.

"Dick told me his parents kept science and math textbooks in their...um...in their home," Mrs. Sawyer said. "I've been going to the fifth grade classrooms and pulling math sheets for Richard this year. He struggles a bit with them, but overall he's been able to complete them."

"So you think it's time to move him up a grade," Bruce stated. At the beginning of the year, there had never been a question of  _if_ he would move up a grade, it was always  _when._ The last thing Bruce wanted was for Dick to be bored in school. A bored kid created a lot of problems. And while Dick still struggled in English, he was vocal about the low level math and science they were taught in class.

"I fear that this might still be too early," the principal said. "He still has a lot of reading and history skills to catch up on."

"But he's clearly bored in math and science," Bruce countered. "And he's progressing in English at a very rapid rate."

"Yes, it's rapid enough for  _this_ level of schooling," Mr. Foster argued, pointing his finger down on the shiny brown table to further his point. "As soon as we move him up, he'll be lost again."

"He'll still have an ELL specialist with him," Bruce said. "He's only a Level Three right now, so legally he still has to be in a learning center."

"It's always best to move kids around grades when they're younger," Mrs. Sawyer added. "It's easier for them to adjust when they're younger. If we don't do this now, we may never get another opportunity."

"What about his maturity level? Is he mentally ready to handle the older grade?"

"He's a bright boy," Ms. Todd advocated. "I have no worries about that. He'll figure it out. He's done beautifully so far."

The principal sighed. "I'm only being harsh right now because I want what's best for Richard. I don't want to push him when he's not ready."

"He's ready," Mrs. Ramos said firmly. "If you continue with his private tutoring over the summer, he'll be more than comfortable enough in the fifth grade classroom."

Mr. Foster nodded and adjusted his posture. "We'll do a one month trial period in the fall. If he seems like he's falling behind, we'll move him back down with his age group in the forth grade."

"That will work," Bruce said.

"Does anyone else have any objections?" Mr. Foster asked.

The table remained silent as the ELL specialist, the third grade teacher, and the school counselor shook their heads.

Mr. Foster let out a content smile and said, "Perfect. Then we'll meet back up next fall to discuss Richard's placement. Have a good afternoon, everyone."

Bruce exchanged his final pleasantries with the school staff as he left the conference room. He headed down to the main office where, with an internal sigh of relief, he saw Dick sitting in the chair Bruce had left him in. True, Dick was quite literally bouncing in his seat, but he was still  _sitting._ Bruce glanced over to the large wooden desk covered with various sheets of paper and forms of all colors where the secretary sat behind. He nodded to her in thanks, and she blushed in return.

"Bruce, Bruce! Let's go!" the hyperactive child said as he leapt out of his chair and bounded towards his guardian, stopping suddenly as the rest of the adults poured into the main area (with the exception of the principal who went to his office). Dick smiled shyly up at the adults and crept over to hide behind Bruce.

Mrs. Ramos and Mrs. Sawyer exchanged amused glances at Dick's behavior shift, before Mrs. Ramos articulated, "Have a good afternoon, Dick!"

"We'll see you tomorrow!" Mrs. Sawyer added.

Dick glanced up at the adults and said in the best accent he could muster, "Bye, thank you. I see you tomorrow too!"

The teachers grinned and exited the office with mutters of, "What a sweet boy," and "He really is doing so well now."

"Ready to go?" Bruce said as he ruffled Dick's gelled black hair.

"Last one to the car is a rotten egg!" Dick exclaimed, shooting out of the office.

Bruce rolled his eyes at Dick's antics and started towards the door.

"You really have your hands full there," came the soft voice of the secretary.

Bruce paused and turned back to her. "You have no idea," he said, shaking his head as face broke out into a warm smile. "But honestly, I wouldn't trade it for the world."


	6. Auditory Processing Disorder

**Characters: Dick, Bruce, Wally, plot-convenient OC's**

**Pairings: None**

**Summary: As Dick gained fluency in English, Bruce expected him to get better at social events too. So what was holding him back?**

* * *

"What?" Dick rolled his eyes. "I can't hear you when you're not facing me. Come on, Bruce, you  _know_ I can't hear you when you're talking to the air."

Bruce sighed. Of course he knew it. It was a windy day and they were walking outside. Bruce had forgotten to turn to face Dick, and so his voice ended up lost in the gentle breeze ruffling the trees next to them. Putting on a smile, Bruce turned towards his ward and said, "Sorry, bud. I was reminding you about the charity event we're hosting tonight."

Dick facepalmed. "Oh, I totally forgot."

Bruce nudged the small preteen next to him, "It's why I decided to remind you."

Dick frowned, "Those events are always so annoying. I can never do anything during them. I just stand in the corner scrolling on my phone and being bored while that annoying blond kid tries to talk to me. What's his name?"

"Bryce Harving?"

Dick's eyes lit up, "Yeah, that guy!" Dick did an impromptu cartwheel in the soft grass. Bruce had a rare bit of free time today so he decided to take Dick out to the grassy park for a bit of father-son bonding time. Like normal parents would. Not that their relationship whispered normal on their best days, though. But it was still nice to try every once in a while.

Frowning, Bruce looked away. Though Dick had the hang of them now, charity events took some getting used to when he first came into Bruce's life. On top of the culture shock Dick faced at these events, he also had something else to struggle with.

At first, Bruce had no idea what was wrong. After the initial shock of the lavish event wore off, Dick would be generally unresponsive in the loud, crowded environment. His face would be blank and it would take Bruce more than one try to get his attention. If an adult tried to ask him a question, he would just smile and nod politely but rarely ever try to respond back. At first, Bruce dismissed this as Dick's lack of native fluency in the English language. However, after an hour or so of the event, Dick would start to react poorly to his environment. His bored expression would turn dazed as signs of sensory-overload would start to creep onto his features. All of these symptoms could be easily explained by Dick's newness to Bruce's world, so Bruce brushed it off as something that Dick would get over in time. However, this was not necessarily the case.

As time went on and Dick gained cultural and linguistic proficiency in his new world, Bruce's expectation of him to behave better at events failed. Dick's issues at charity events persisted, and so Bruce took notes of any other odd behaviors he saw in the child in at home. To his surprise, it was not too long before he had a list of other quirks in Dick that caused him to take the boy in for testing.

Bruce would never forget sitting in the waiting room of the hospital for what seemed like forever while Dick took the series of tests in the room over. He would also never forget when the doctor pulled him in to explain what he found was going on in Dick's brain. How the part of the brain that processes and sorts sound wasn't functioning normally. How Dick could hear everything but he couldn't filter any of it. How his brain would guess on certain words in a sentence if they sound too similar to other words. How Dick's memory would scramble names, numbers, or steps in directions. How Dick was very intelligent for his age, but would need to learn to work around his disability. And in time, that's exactly what happened. He managed to move up two grade levels in school, despite the disorder. However, there were some things that Dick would not be able to work around as easily. Like charity events.

"Just sign with Jess," Bruce suggested, twirling a fallen leaf in his hand. Bruce already knew sign language as one of the many languages he had to learn thanks to his Batman persona. Dick, after taking up Robin, also learned it among a few other languages.

Dick made a face, "She doesn't sign."

"I thought she did," Bruce questioned. Though Dick didn't usually talk to a lot of people during these events, there was one girl he seemed to be okay with being around. She was Jessica, the daughter of the CEO of a powerful construction company. It had branches all over the United States, but its central location was Gotham. According to Dick, she wasn't a egotistical jerk and she happened to have a loud voice. Instant friendship material.

"Nah," answered Dick, bending backwards into a bridge. "She knows like two sentences. Besides, I don't even think she's coming."

Bruce shrugged, bending down to look at his ward, "Sorry, bud. I don't know what to tell you. Looks like you're just gonna have to tough this one out."

Dick made a face and stood back up, "Ugh, you're leaving me to hang with Blondie all night?"

"Who?"

"That kid that's always all over me! Always bragging about his houses on the Vinyard and London and whatever."

"Bryce?"

Dusting off his hands on his jeans, he shook his head and muttered, "That's criminal, Bruce.  _L'horreur._  Honestly."

Bruce smirked down at the boy, ignoring the dirt he was spreading all over his denim pants. "You're so dramatic."

"You try listening to that kid. You wouldn't last five minutes!" Dick countered.

Bruce rolled his eyes, "You can't even understand him."

"Doesn't mean I can't hear his whiny voice!"

"Come on, he can't be that bad," Bruce said.

Dick gave Bruce an incredulous look. "Haven't you met his father? Like at all? Their whole family's like that I bet."

"Dick, everyone's like that!"

Dick threw his hands up, "Then you should know exactly how I feel when I have to spend three hours with Blondie before he gets bored and starts kissing up to some other poor soul!"

"Bryce, Dick. His name's Bryce."

"Bruce," Dick raised his eyebrows. "I'm still working on getting my friend's last names down. I don't have time to learn Blondie's."

"You seem hang out with him enough."

"It's a non-consentual hanging out session, Bruce! There's a difference!"

"If you say so..."

Dick huffed at Bruce's un-sympathetic response but didn't say anything further. Names what Dick called a "side effect" of his disorder. Someone could tell Dick their name a dozen times and Dick would still forget it. And this wasn't for a lack of trying either. As a result, he only had space for the most important names in his life. To normal people this would be family, friends, and some peers. For Dick, it meant superheroes and villains. Bryce just didn't make the cut.

"What about Wally?" Bruce asked, tapping his ward's shoulder.

Dick turned around with a, "Huh?"

"What if you brought Wally?" Bruce said. Wally had learned ASL years ago, when he and Dick first started hanging out outside of their masks. One trip to a local diner revealed how Wally's voice and the background noise blended together to Dick's ears, even though Dick reassured Wally how, "I'll never not-hear your annoying mouth." After that outing, Wally took it upon himself to learn to sign. He liked talking fast. He had a lot—a LOT—to say, and he hated the constant pausing and repeating he had to do when communicating with his best friend. If Dick couldn't understand Wally's verbal communication, Wally was going to learn another way. So he and his Aunt Iris started taking ASL classes together. After a while, Wally and Dick started using ASL in public and mixing it in with regular speech. Dick loved it because he had visual speech to associate with the spoken sounds, and Wally loved it because he could finally blabber on without being interrupted every two sentences for clarification.

The silent language would especially come in handy tonight, Bruce noted to himself. To combat all the sounds hitting his ears at once in a garbled mess Bruce had gotten him a pair of earasers, which filtered out loud noise without disrupting the overall quality of sound. They seemed to work wonders much to Bruce's relief as they allowed Dick to stay at the charity events for the full length of time. Unfortunately, they also made everything a bit quieter around him, which didn't help Dick understand anyone easier. Bruce had discovered that during these moments, ASL was the easiest form of communication with Dick.

Dick's eyes doubled in size, "Really? You'll let me bring him?"

Bruce shrugged. "Why not? It's my house."

Dick started jumping in the air, "Thanks so much Bruce! I'll text him, hold on."

* * *

Wally was more than excited. It wasn't every day he got to hang with his best bro Dick and eat fancy food for free. Well, he did get to do that most weekends actually. But that fact didn't make this any less exciting because this was slightly different. It was a rich  _charity_ _event_. The wealthiest people in and around Gotham would be in attendance and although Wally was not even close to rich, it was fun to pretend to be part of the elite. Even though Dick complained about how boring these were often enough, Wally couldn't help but still be excited.

"Wally, it's time to go!" called Aunt Iris from downstairs. "You ready?"

"Yeah, just trying to tie my tie!" Wally answered back from his position in front of his mirror. He knew his aunt had taught him how to do this once when he was younger. Of course, he didn't think he'd be needing to remember this information this early in his life.

"Hold on, I gotchu" came a male voice. In the blink of an eye, the face of Barry Allen was entering the room. He strutted over and, with practiced fingers, knotted the difficult piece of fabric in place.

Wally impatiently watched him adjust the final product before tearing away with a quick, "Thanks, Uncle Barry!"

"No problem," his uncle said. "Alright now go say goodbye to Iris. And don't forget to be back on time tonight! You don't want to get her all worked up about not getting home on time."

Wally waved his uncle off as he exited the room, grabbing his backpack containing his dress shoes and jacket. "Yeah yeah, don't worry. I won't stay there too long after the event is over."

His uncle relaxed slightly. "Alright. Go have fun!"

"See ya!" Wally rushed down the stairs, gave a quick hug and a promise to be safe to his aunt, and then started on his way to Gotham. Thankfully, the run to Gotham was fairly quick, even in his formal attire. A light run to the zeta beam, and then another jog across Gotham to the mansion. Ten minutes later he was in the woods behind Wayne's mansion, changing out of his sneakers and into the rest of his outfit. After checking himself over one more time, he went over to the front of the mansion and knocked on the large wooden door. The door immediately swung open and Wally found himself face-to-face with the best cook he'd ever met.

"Alfie! Good to see you, buddy!" Wally bounced on his toes.

A slight smile adorned the butler's visage. He took Wally's backpack and, with a knowing hint of a smirk, greeted him. "Well hello Master Wallace. It is good to see you as always. Master Dick is inside the party room with the rest of the guests. I assume you know the way?"

Wally grinned. "You know it!" he said and zoomed past the old man.

Wally had never been inside the large, spacious events room when it was full of people. And the room really did not look any smaller when it was full of guests. If anything, all the people made it look even more huge. He gasped, taking in the lavish scene with its orchestral music and sparkling chandeliers. "This party has the largest sum of money of any party I will ever go to ever," he breathed.

He weaved between the people, who all wore the most expensive looking outfits Wally had ever seen in person. He didn't pay much attention to those people, though. He was looking for one specific tan boy. Eventually he bumped into Bruce. Wally still hasn't gotten used to in this form, even years after knowing the man. Bruce stood surrounded by guests wearing a goofy smile at some comment someone else had made. Wally had to suppress a shudder at how out of place the shit-eating-grin Bruce had on looked compared to his actual personality. When the billionaire spotted Wally's red hair out of the corner of his eye, he said enthusiastically, "Wally! So glad you could make it!"

"Yeah, of course." Wally's eyes shifted over to the confused faces of Bruce's guests.

Bruce noticed this too, and said smoothly, "Oh, everyone this is Wally. He's one of Richard's friends from outside of school. They met at a math and science competition a couple years ago."

It was true, Wally and Dick did see each other sometimes at competitions. But they had known who each other were before then.

One brunette woman in a purple sparkly dress and plum lips to match smiled. "Well any friend of Richard's is a friend of ours. Welcome to the event, Wally!"

Wally internally grimaced. He knew that these people didn't  _really_ like Dick. They still thought Bruce just brought him in to score charity points. At least, that's what Dick confided in Wally one night when they were laying on the roof. He told Wally they still called him "circus brat" and "gypsy trash" when they thought Dick wasn't paying attention. Though Dick reassured Wally that he was used to it now, Wally knew deep down it still hurt him.

Wally smiled shyly at the woman and said, "Thank you!" Turning to Bruce he politely asked, "Hey, have you seen Dick anywhere?"

Bruce thought for a moment, "No, not recently. But he usually hangs out by the back wall with the other kids. Maybe try there?"

"Thanks!" Wally squeezed past the people, eager to get away from the scene. He made his way to the back of the large room where he saw some of the rich kids hanging out. Scanning the crowd, he made out a tuft of black hair leaning against the wall.

"That's godda be him," Wally muttered as he started towards the short tuft of hair, earning odd glances from the other teens.

A blond kid moved from in front of the black hair. Immediately, Wally was able to recognize tan skin backdropping bright blue eyes. Wally's eyes lit up with recognition and he called out, "Hey Dick!"

Dick, whose eyes gazed out in another direction, didn't respond to Wally.

Face-palming, Wally moved closer to his friend.

Sensing a difference in his surroundings, Dick's eyes shifted over till they landed on Wally. The blue orbs of his eyes lit up. "Hey, man!"

Wally ran over and high-fived his bro. "Hey, what's up?"

Dick grinned and shrugged, "You know, same old."

Wally laughed. "Thanks for inviting me!"

"What?" Dick asked. He reached up to touch his ear filters.

 _"I said, thanks for inviting me,"_ Wally signed, his face bright with excitement.

Realization dawned on Dick. He grinned. "Oh no problem!  _It gets boring here. Don't worry, you'll see that for yourself."_

_"No way! No one brings the party like I do."_

Dick laughed and punched Wally on the shoulder. "You wish!"

"Um, Richard, who's your friend?" a pale blond boy asked Dick.

 _"Blondie?"_ Wally asked, fingerspelling. Wally wasn't the greatest at fingerspelling, but they've complained enough about Blondie to make the signs about as easy to produce as it is to breath.

"Yeah," Dick said. "Uh, this is Wally."

"We met at a math and science competition a couple years back," Wally added, parroting Bruce.

Blondie smirked. "Right, I thought something was off. You see, my family knows all the elites in this city. I didn't recognize you. You must be a public school kid."

Wally blinked. "Uh, I'm from suburbia."

Dick snorted. " _Told you he was a piece of shit."_

_"_ _No kidding."_

"Richard, what was that?" Blondie asked.

"Sorry, I can't hear you," Dick said, tapping his ears. Wally almost believed him before his bullshit meter flew off the charts. Nothing was complex enough about that sentence for Dick not to get.

Blondie seemed to sense something was off too, if his miffed appearance was a source of measurement.

"Don't worry about it, man," Wally put his hand on the pale boy's shoulder in an attempt to ease the building tension. "You see, my friend Dick was just filling me in on some basics about you. Cuz, ya know, it's my first time here and all. And Dick's pretty bad at that whole hearing thing, so we both like to just stick to ASL. It's easier that way, you feel?"

Red-cheeked, Blondie opened his mouth to return. Wally didn't care. "I mean, between you and me, it would be great if all three of us could hang out and chat. But Dick and I are gonna have to sign, and I'm also pretty hungry..."

Wally took his arm off the tight-faced rich kid and put a hand on Dick's shoulder, as if to guide him away from the scene. "I see some pretty hot girls over there though. Hot dudes too, if you're into that. I don't judge. I'm just here for the food. Anyways, have a fun time! Go hit on some babes for me!"

Before Blondie could so much splutter out a response, Wally and Dick had disappeared into the crowd.

"Hearing thing?" Dick spun around and asked Wally once they were a safe distance away, his eyebrows raised against his forehead.

Wally, passing by a server with a tray of mini crab cakes, swiped a handful from the tray and stuffed them in his mouth. With cheeks full of food, he said, "Hearing problem, APD, it's all the same really. To people like Blondie anyways. They're not gonna know the difference."

Dick crossed his arms and stared at Wally expectantly.

Wally rolled his eyes and repeated the sentence in ASL. Adding on, " _Damn_ _, you're so demanding. Can't you give a guy a break every so often?"_

 _"Yeah I guess Blondie is too dumb to know any of this...Also, I know you just want to speak because you want food in your hands all night,"_ Dick said, habitually touching his ear filters.

Wally huffed. " _A man's godda eat."_

_"Man?"_

_"For real! I've totally hit puberty. I'm way taller than you! I'm so tall I could probably step on you and squish you if I wanted to. Like an ant. You're an ant to me,"_

Dick waved him off dismissively. Wally watched as his blue eyes flickered up to the ceiling before setting back on Wally, "Oh please!  _You're only a few inches taller than me!"_

Wally's thumb and pinky touched together, forming the numeral sign, " _Six!"_ He all but shoved the sign in Dick's face. He was about to add on more to that when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of women watching them curiously. Odd glances weren't exactly uncommon for people who weren't around the elaborate hand gestures all the time, but something about this situation seemed  _off._ Wally tuned them in.

"What are they doing? Sign language?" A golden-haired women in a glittery pink dressed asked her friend, her bold lips pouted in confusion.

The brunette responded, "Don't you ever see Bruce talking to the kid? He is always using that language when talking to the boy."

"He's deaf?"

"No, I think just hearing impaired," the brunette said, making Wally cringe. Adjusting her long emerald green dress, she continued, "I've seen them speak together before. It's so sad though."

"How dreadful!" The first woman agreed, "Why didn't Bruce just take him to speech therapy? The boy knows English fine. You just need someone to enforce it."

"Very true. One day you go to do something nice and foster a kid, and the next thing you know they're making you learn a new language even though they can speak yours just fine! Such entitlement."

"This is what's wrong with the new generation..."

Wally tuned them out to see Dick nonchalantly munching on a snack that seemed to appear out of thin air. Relief spread through Wally as he noticed Dick didn't appear to have heard the interaction between the two women.

"Let's go to the kitchen," Wally said, grabbing Dick's wrist suddenly.

"Ah—Wally!" Dick shouted in surprise, accidentally dropping the food out of his hand as he was dragged through the crowd by his friend. Coming to his senses, Dick twisted his wrist around his friend's grip, releasing his arm. He pulled it back reflexively as Wally turned around, seemingly annoyed. "Dude, what are you doing?"

" _Sorry, I'm hungry! I just ran here, if you forgot. I need some real food, not the tiny balls of air they're serving us."_

If Dick was suspicious, he didn't show it. "Alright, I'm officially whelmed.  _Let's go bother Alfred in the kitchen. I bet he's expecting us anyways."_

* * *

Dick was, if anything, a detective. He was trained to look for clues, subtle signs, and piece together a larger picture from them. And if Wally's slight tightened jawline and hardened eyes were any indication, Wally was peeved. About...something. Dick was still working out that part. But something had happened that made Wally go from joking about his height to dragging Dick out of the room. And while the small detective wasn't complaining—he hated these events—he was a bit concerned about his friend.

Dick had been to more charity events than he could count. At first, it was hard. The people didn't see him as anything more than Bruce's temporary trophy. Neither the adults nor the children accepted him, and in many ways they still didn't. They came from old money. If you didn't have that old money, old wealth, old status, you weren't one of the pack. Dick had been through it enough times to become desensitized, and dare he say  _used to_ all the shit that's gotten thrown at him over the years: the silent stares, the scornful mutters, the  _whispers._ Wally on the other hand? He was new. He wasn't rich. And he was best friends with Dick, the gypsy circus brat.

Yeah...Dick probably shouldn't have expected people to be nice to him.

Guilt pricked him as he reached for another cookie off the counter. Alfred, though nowhere to be seen, had left a steaming plate of cookies and three plates of food on the kitchen counter. Dick, though not even remotely shocked at this discovery, was still frustratingly attempting to solve the puzzle called, "How can Alfred always know what we we're going to do before we even do?" As far as he was aware, Bruce too had been trying to decode this mystery since he was a child. Dick assumed his overall net progress was still at zero percent.

Dick had also assumed one of the plates of food was for him, however he still found himself fighting Wally for the food on the plate.

"Wally, you have two plates of food!"

"That means nothing," Wally countered.

Sighing in defeat, Dick popped out the earasers and set them on the counter. Even though he'd wore them many times before this, he still let out an audible, "Whoa," as his hearing immediately heightened. He could hear everything, from the underlying high pitched ringing of the fridge to the hissing of his own silent breath. He blinked a few times, as if trying to help his brain adjust back to normal.

Wally looked at him curiously, "Does that hurt?"

Dick's eyes shifted down to the countertop. He picked up a carrot stick and shoved it in his mouth. "Nah, everything just gets really loud and kinda fuzzy."

"Oh," Wally replied simply.

Dick could sense his natural curiosity. He swallowed uncomfortably and ran a hand through his hair. Refusing to meet the speedster's eyes, he forced himself to continue, "They just...I guess the best way to describe it is like when you're watching the TV and you lower the volume. That's pretty much all these do. They just lower the volume of the room slightly. And they'll filter out certain frequencies I think. I'm not really sure. I mean, I don't wear them that much. I only wear them if I'm in a crowded room. You wouldn't believe how annoying it is to have to listen to fifty conversations at once. It gets really tiring. These just kinda help with that."

Wally paused for a moment. "I guess listening to every single conversation in the room at once is probably pretty annoying. Unless they're all my clones. Then it's just one of those unforgettable once-in-a-lifetime experiences."

"Yeah, unforgettably  _annoying,_ " Dick said with a devilish smirk. He popped another carrot in his mouth.

"I–I mean," Wally faltered. "Can you really hear  _everything?_ "

"Like, everything a normal ear picks up. It's not like I have  _super hearing_  or anything," Dick smirked, thinking back to all the times he'd seen Kid Flash mutter something under his breath only to have Superboy cock his head slightly from around the room or—worst case scenario—turn around to glare at KF from across the room.

"But that doesn't make sense. If we hear the same stuff then why do you suck at it?"

Dick rolled his eyes and flicked a carrot at Wally. "I don't  _suck_ at it!"

Catching the carrot easily, Wally raised his eyebrows. A smirk played on his lips.

"Okay, okay! I'm bad at it. But it's not my ear's fault. My ears, you know this, they work fine. The problem is that when the sound goes through my ear and into my brain, the neurons freak out. They don't know how to sort any of the sound they're receiving. Like, normal people's brains will sort sound into levels of importance and all that, which is why when you're out in public and you're talking to your friend, you can kind of key into their speech. I can't do that. My brain just doesn't sort the sound. So when I'm in public, everything blends together as one sound. So I usually end up hearing more than the average person, which is kinda cool if you think about it, but in the process I lose the quality of sound. Speech is muffled, singers on the radio aren't speaking any language, and that kind of thing."

"Huh, that's pretty weird." Wally said through a mouthful of food.

"Yeah, but it can be useful too. Like, if I'm patrolling with Bruce I'm usually the one out of the two of us that will find crime first. Because I can hear it better than he can. He'll be focused on one ally while I'll be picking up sounds from wherever. I won't know what the people are saying, but I'll know something's going down." Dick narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Wally before adding in, "I am a detective, you know."

Wally turned bright red and swallowed. "Dick, I just ran all the way here—"

"Yeah, from the zeta beam."

"—and I need some fuel if I want to make it home!"

"Oh please," Dick rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure you'll make it home fine. Listen, people say shit about me all the time here. I shouldn't have expected them to be nice to you, especially since you're here with me. So...yeah." Frowning, Dick broke eye contact with his best friend and popped another carrot in his mouth.

"Um..." Wally paused, as if debating something in his mind, before breaking into a shit-eating grin. "Don't worry about it! I'm sure they were just jealous of my dashingly good looks!"

A small smile broke into Dick's face. "You wish, Kid Mouth."

"Come on, you don't think I could get some numbers here?"

Dick snorted, small bouts of laughter shaking his small frame.

Wally placed the back of his hand to his forehead in mock hurt. "Oh no, there goes my self-confidence! My fragile teenage self-confidence is dwindling! Dick, how could you?"

"Wally, if your ego got any bigger you might have exploded! Think of me as your helpful friend looking out for you." Dick said, giving him a cheeky smile.

Wally shoved the last handful of food in his mouth before abruptly changing the subject. "Hey, you wanna go steal a couple trays of the rich people food and then go pig out in your room? They might have been little balls of air but they were  _damn good_ balls of air."

Dick shoved his ear filters in his pocket and headed to the door. "You're on!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, all caught up to the oneshots I've written! The gaps between chapters will be a lot longer now.
> 
> I ACCEPT RECS. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF THERE'S ANYTHING YOU WANTS WRITTEN. I can't guarantee I'll write it, but I do love your ideas!


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